


Fuck History

by Liara_90



Category: RWBY
Genre: Desk Sex, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Office Sex, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5016943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liara_90/pseuds/Liara_90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake and Yang fuck on Schnee Sr.'s desk, because they can. Desecration has never been this sexy. One-shot. (Bumblebee smut in the context of a Bees Schnee's relationship).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuck History

[If you want to skip the prelude and go straight to the scene with the smut, search for "Ninjas of Love"]

"So it's official?" asked Blake, as Weiss read and re-read the email for the umpteenth time. Her eyes traced line after line of corporate legalese, like an inspector looking for a small but critical flaw on the factory floor. Finally satisfied that there were no clauses, conditions, loopholes or jokes in the message, Weiss gave a short, curt nod.

"It's official," confirmed Weiss, fingers hovering over the keyboard, uncharacteristically uncertain about her next move. She opted to print a hard copy for her records. "As of Monday, I am officially the Chief Operation Officer of the largest privately held company in the world." The Ice Queen wasn't one to let nerves get to her, but the weight of the responsibility bore down upon her.

Blake glanced over to Yang, the blonde sprawled decadently over the entertainment room's couch, legs splayed across the cushions. Her attention was superficially consumed by the gory first-person shooter on the screen opposite her, fingers and thumbs mashing furiously into the small controller in her hands, but the headset lay disconnected on a cushion beside her, Yang's ears catching every murmured word.

Yang knew better than to offer congratulations. Truth be told Weiss Schnee probably _was_ the most-qualified person to run the Schnee Dust Company's day-to-day operations, had been preparing for the position since childhood, really. It was also true that regardless of her own qualifications, her degrees, her knowledge and experience, she would never have gotten the position without her Father none-too-subtly pulling the strings for her. While once Weiss may have viewed her promotion as inevitable as an heir-apparent's coronation, the recent years had _changed_ her, for lack of a better word. She was a woman on a mission now, a revolutionary in a private war…

Weiss took a seat on the couch, or rather took Yang's seat, sliding herself on the same cushions Yang occupied so her girlfriend had no choice but to cuddle her. The blonde shuffled about slightly, so Weiss could rest more comfortably on her chest, the multi-millionaire staring distantly into Yang's virtual battlefield. Yang shot Blake a smug glance, though Blake took no umbrage at Weiss' choice of cuddle partner. She knew firsthand what it was like to have those arms wrapped around you, after all….

They made small-talk for an hour and ordered takeout pizza that Weiss fervently protested but devoured anyways. Her aristocrat's palate was less different than her proletarian girlfriends' than she would like to admit, Yang would occasionally joke. No one brought up the elephant in the room. How Weiss would be working ninety-hour weeks for the next month, and that was _if_ everything went smoothly. How the allegations of nepotism, incompetence and prejudice - already creeping into the blogosphere and cable news - would inevitably explode with volcanic force. The possibility that her father, by making Weiss his _de facto_ second-in-command, might be coming to terms with his illness…

No one slept soundly in their shared king-sized bed that night, despite how precious a few hours of sleep could be. And not for fun reasons, either, to Yang's double annoyance. It had been weeks since their last proper threesome…

The alarm on Weiss' phone screamed to life at…. "five in the goddam morning?" Yang groaned, blindly groping about for the delicate machine and managing to smack Weiss in the face in the process. Normally Weiss slept on the edge of the bed for exactly this reason - so she could quickly disable her alarm and slide out of bed with minimal disturbance to her later-rising lovers - but Yang had insisted Weiss take the middle spot that night. Weiss thought it a sweet gesture, as the warmth of two bodies pressing against her was one of the most calming sensations in the universe, but bloody inconvenient come sunrise. Before sunrise, really.

Blake was a light sleeper and Yang a blonde brick, though it took Yang thrice as long to fall asleep in the first place. Yang tossed and turned in annoyance, listening distantly to the sounds of Weiss going through her morning routine with machine-like efficiency, mildly resentful that Blake was already asleep again. She was tired, too groggy to even put on the TV, but a tension in the back of her mind prevented her from escaping to slumber once more. So Yang did the most dangerous thing she could do.

She planned.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It's a brilliant idea!"

"It's liable to get us arrested for trespassing," countered Blake, running a comb through knots in her hair. 

"It's not trespassing if we have an invitation from Weiss."

"If we have an invitation from Weiss then it hardly counts as a surprise, does it?"

_'Hoisted by my own petard. '_ mused Yang, _'What a weird phrase'_. She went back to figuring out how best to sell Blake on this. "But you agree that assuming it can be done-" admittedly a big assumption -"surprising Weiss in her new office for sex and cuddles would be good for her."

Blake paused, gears spinning in her head as she tried to follow Yang's thought to its logical conclusion. Risk versus reward. Death or glory, more like.

"It…. probably wouldn't be the worst thing in the world for her," Blake cautiously conceded, her attention still half-focused on the television, which was providing a summary of the international markets. Ever since Weiss had become an important part of her life Blake had tried to keep up with at least the broad strokes of business and financial news, if only to understand half of what Weiss was saying. That, and it meant she didn't have to dwell on any ulterior motives she might have for a sex-fueled intervention. "She's been pretty tense for the past month."

Yang snorted at the understatement, before heading to the kitchen to scrounge up some breakfast. The one downside of freeloading at Weiss' penthouse was the heiress' terrible taste in groceries. Or rather, nothing that could be prepared for breakfast by anything less than a three-star chef. Would it kill her to stash some Pumpkin Pete's to the pantry? It's not like the stuff ever went bad.

Blake trailed behind her, still clad in a T-shirt and boyshorts, in Yang's mind sexiness incarnate. They settled on leftover pizza, wordlessly agreeing to never tell Weiss of their choice.

"So," said Yang, mischievous lilac eyes peering into Blake's, "shall I sign you up for Operation COO?"

A raised eyebrow. "Operation Chief Operation Office-"

"Operation Chief Orgasm Obtainer," declared Yang, with a face-splitting grin.

Blake let out a world-weary sigh of surrender. "Fine. But that codename is for our eyes only, understood?"

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The plan was conditional on them being able to blend in with the corporate drones of the SDC Headquarters, and one of those small ironies was that longtime-archnemesis Blake Belladonna would have an easier time doing that than Yang. Blake at least had proper business attire, a black skirt suit with matching camisole, ultra-sheer black pantyhose and stiletto heels. It was hard to go wrong with an outfit handpicked by Weiss Schnee, sharp lines and unwrinkled cloth giving an aura of imperious authority. She did her hair up in a severe bun, eliciting pitying whimpers from Yang, and raided Weiss' makeup kit for the first time in ages.

Yang, on the other hand, was…

"Wow, Yang, you look like the bimbo secretary from every low-budget porn flick ever made," said Blake, for once being able to flaunt her superior fashion.

"Hey! These are the most business-friendly clothes I own."

"And therein lies the problem," groaned Blake. The white blouse would probably fit _Ruby_ better than her sister, and the way Yang had buttoned it (or… not) left a generous slice of cleavage spilling out. The pencil skirt, while tasteful in design, stopped _far_ too north of the knee, and the sandals on her feet looked more at place on the beach than marble-floored hallways. "It's okay, we'll just pretend you're the eye candy secretary for some hotshot in marketing."

Yang extended her middle figure with practiced grace, eliciting a short snort from its recipient. With the addition of one of Blake's older business jackets they were able to polish up her image slightly, until Yang opted for a brackish coat of scarlet-red lipstick that dropped her down to B-list porn star again.

Blake let out the sigh one already doomed.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Change of plan: I say we do this old school - knock out a few security guards, steal their uniforms, slip on in," said Yang, as Blake pulled into the SDC's sprawling parking lot, another perk of borrowing Weiss' car and its accompanying parking pass. She could get used to all-leather interiors.

"How many felonies are you planning to commit in the pursuit of sex?" asked Blake, weaving through the parking lot. They'd arrived late in the day, or early in the evening, depending on your perspective, when the worker drones were beginning to clear out and free up spots.

"Wouldn't be the first time," said Yang with a grin. "Wait, is indecent exposure a felony or a misdemeanor?"

Blake groaned as she parked the car, killing the engine and dropping the key into her handbag. Admittedly, she hated the handbag. Why the outfit Weiss had picked for her didn't have proper pockets was beyond Blake.

They had decided against trying to bluff their way past anyone at reception and aim to just slide in unnoticed. Both Yang and Blake had been to SDC HQ with Weiss before, and were broadly familiar with its layout. Assuming nothing had changed in the past few months…

Schnee Tower was as gaudy as Yang had remembered it, story upon story of glass, like some big, translucent stalagmite. The lobby was just as grandiloquent, designed to shock and awe, all frosted glass and flowing water and prestigious architecture awards.

"Excuse me." Blake's head twitched only in the slightest as one of the receptionists they'd breezed by shouted after them. Her heels clicked relentlessly on the floor. "Excuse me!"

Blake gestured for Yang to hold up, the receptionist's shouts having startled awake a dozing security guard. Plan A had not survived contact with the enemy. Blake turned about as casually as possible, then gave the receptionist her harshest glare.

"You… can't just walk in there," said the receptionist, a twenty-something redhead, fumbling her words at the surprising intensity of Blake's eyes. That happened a lot.

Blake closed the distance between her and the receptionist's desk in a few long strikes until she was looming over the girl. Blake's own breathing was preternaturally calm, the adrenaline coursing through her veins channeled to work her will.

"Please excuse us," said Blake, her tone appropriately annoyed. "My associate and I have an appointment with Ms. Weiss Schnee." Blake watched as the receptionist began fidgeting in nervousness. "You know how Ms. Schnee does not like being kept waiting." For added effect, Blake opened her handbag and slid one of Weiss' business cards over the desk.

"I'm sorry, though you still need to have a registered appointment…."

Her voice trailed off as Yang pulled out a cellphone, an antiquated flip phone. "Do you have Weiss' new office number?" Yang asked the receptionist, though she interrupted her before she had any time to respond. "Never mind, I still have her cell in here, too." She quickly cranked the volume on her phone so even without being on speakerphone the conversation would be easy to overhear.

"Ms. Schnee can be a rather fearsome lady," said Blake, ostensibly making small talk while Yang fiddled with her phone. The receptionist tactfully said nothing. "COO at her age, and probably only a few years from C _E_ O." A pause for effect. " _I'd_ hate to get on her bad side."

The receptionist was visibly sweating at this point. It hadn't taken long for the Ice Queen to make a name for herself, evidently.

"Hey, Weiss, it's Yang," said the blonde, a grin playing over her face. She walked back to the receptionist's desk, leaning on it with both elbows.

"Yang?" Weiss' sharp inflection was unmistakable, and the receptionist wilted a little. "You know I'm really busy right now. Is there a problem?"

"Well see I'm just a little held up right now…" 

" _Sorry please just go_ ," said the receptionist, breaking at the last possible minute. Yang flashed the poor woman her most sunshine-infused smile, and spun on her heels towards the elevator.

"….held up in traffic, and I was wondering if there were any errands you wanted me to run tonight," finished Yang, once they were out of earshot.

Dead air filled the line as Weiss was thrown by the out-of-left-field offer. Blake was already holding the elevator for her and Yang hastily darted inside. A balding businessman shot them a glower, which vanished when he saw what floor they were getting off on.

"….Weiss?"

"Sorry, lost in thought for a moment. Is Blake with you?"

Purple and golden eyes locked. "Um…..yes…" Yang hesitantly answered.

"In the car with you."

"Yes."

"Stuck in traffic."

" _Yuuuuuuuup_."

"And you thought you'd call and ask if there was anything you could do for me."

"What's with the interrogation? It's not like-"

The elevator chimed as the doors slid apart, and Yang found herself precisely one stride length's away from a very _un_ surprised corporate heiress. Plan B was not looking good at this point, either.

They remained frozen in place for a moment, phones plastered to their ears, the hallway around them quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Weiss flared her eyebrows. Yang opened her mouth, closed it, bit her lip for several seconds, and then sheepishly flipped her phone shut. She took a small step out of the elevator, shortly followed by Blake, who was steadfastly staring at the ground like a naughty student caught by the principal.

Weiss let out a sigh. "I have to say I'm impressed that you made it this far, in that outfit." Yang blushed slightly.

"I can be very professional when I need to," the blonde shot back, defensively.

"I've no doubt," replied Weiss, her tone dry as dust. She glanced at the clock overhanging the elevator doors. "You managed to wait a whole twelve hours before launching your own search-and-rescue operation."

"It had a name and everything," mumbled Yang, wincing slightly as a nudge from the point on Blake's heeled shoes discouraged her from elaborating. "We're worried about you. All work and no play makes Weiss a cranky girl."

" _Hrmph_ ," replied Weiss with an inarticulate grunt. She locked eyes with Blake. "I have to say I'm a little disappointed that you enabled this deviant in her schemes, Ms. Belladonna."

"I….I concur with my partner's assessment," said Blake, struggling to match Weiss' formal tone. "We believe more interpersonal time would be beneficial to your overall mental wellbeing."

"You know, we're like those stress balls hotshot executives are always squeezing whenever you see one on a tense phone call," offered Yang. Nobody missed the way Weiss' eyes furtively darted to Yang's bosom at the mention of the word 'squeezing'.

"I suppose I could give you a brief tour," conceded Weiss, brushing a few stray hairs out of her face. "Just try not to talk to anyone. Or go wandering. Or touch anything."

"Scout's Honor!" Yang swore with a cheek-splitting grin.

The next five minutes were just that: Weiss showing them a series of jaw-dropping offices that all kind of blurred together after a while. Every window had a view that must have been one of the best in the city, lakes and mountains laid out like massive landscape paintings. Two conference rooms - one windowless with probably a whole tree's worth of black oak furnishings, the other all glass and polished steel, floor-to-ceiling windows and state-of-the-art teleconferencing gear. Oil portraits of old executives whose names Blake had once cursed. Weiss' own office was a temple to the gods of efficiency, every leaf of paper in its place, an ergonomic chair positioned like a throne. Yang was mildly disappointed at the lack of any photos whatsoever, though such sentimental mementos wouldn't have gelled with Weiss' self-projected reputation as a heartless executive. But even the other corporate bigwigs had photos of their wives, children, mistresses….

The thought was shaken from Yang's head as one of the two phones on Weiss' desk rang, the heiress interrupting her conversation with Blake to answer it. Blake and Yang continued poking around Weiss' office, to the heiress' visible annoyance, fingers running over manila folders and black binders. The handset of the phone was put down a minute later.

"There's a meeting that I have to videoconference in for from the second conference room." She hurriedly collected several nearby documents, mind already on the meeting. "It'll probably be about thirty minutes. Can you occupy yourselves until then?"

"Don't worry Weiss, we'll be good," said Yang with her sincerest smile, causing the heiress to roll her eyes. The blonde dropped herself into one of the leather chairs, legs dangling over the armrests.

"Blake, just make sure she doesn't… just be good," said Weiss, slipping out back into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

"It's funny that she thinks you're the lesser deviant," said Yang, after a moment's pause. She tilted her head backwards over the other armrest so she could stare upside-down at Blake, blonde hair spilling down to the floor.

"Well, I am the responsible one," replied Blake off-handedly, taking in the almost vertigo-inducing view of the city Weiss' window afforded her.

''Didn't say _more responsible_ , said _less deviant_ ," corrected Yang, swinging herself upright. "You're lucky she doesn't have time to read your fanfiction."

Blake's cheeks flushed scarlet at that, and she was grateful her back was to her girlfriend. Weiss knew about her writing hobbies, had read a few of Blake's better-edited stories. Just not the fifty-seven chapter _Ninjas of Love_ 'epic of erotica' whose OCs were just _slightly_ too familiar.

Blake's embarrassment receded as Yang began poking around again, before finally coming up to a small door tucked into the corner of the office. "Heya Blake, what do you reckon's behind this?"

"Closet, probably," replied Blake, though her own curiosity was piqued. "You gave Weiss your Scout's Honor, remember?"

"Ah, but Ms. Belladonna," replied Yang mischievously, "I was never a Scout." She ignored the way Blake rolled her eyes at her. "Hm, you think that Weiss…"

Yang's sentence trailed off as the door swung open, and she was left on the threshold of easily the nicest room she had ever seen. Seriously, there were _palaces_ uglier than this. A double-pedestal mahogany desk. Marble pillars on the walls. A carpet that belonged in a museum. A landscape painting Yang was pretty sure she _had_ seen in a museum.

"Blake…"

No more words followed as Yang took a cautious step into the office. No alarms screamed at her. No booby-traps were triggered. The room smelled old and grandiose, like a generations-old chapel. There was a small bookshelf filled with gold-lettered tomes, none of which had been printed in the last century. A bust of a historical figure Yang knew she should've recognized. Photos of meetings with Kings and Prime Ministers, all featuring…

"Holy shit," breathed Blake, the uncharacteristic curse slipping thoughtlessly past her lips. "This is _the_ Schnee office."

"Huh?"

"Weiss' grandfather, the SDC's founder. When he died, Weiss' father moved into his old office, kept it pretty much unchanged. When this tower was build they had the whole room moved here, too." Blake's breath caught in her throat as her fingers trailed along some of the artifacts decorating the room. Her eyes locked on an old whalebone carving, a centuries-old relic that her people had been lobbying to have returned, arguing it had been illegally looted from an old temple by SDC surveyors. Her fingertips brushed it with the utmost delicacy, as if unsure if it was real.

"So this is Schnee Sr.'s office." Yang let out a loud snort. "I think that megalomania diagnosis practically writes itself."

"Delusions and grandeur," Blake agreed, as she strolled back to the desk. It was, she had to admit, even as her heart seemed to stop, quite beautiful. Weighed almost a ton, scenes from mythology and legendarium hand-carved in intricate detail. Wide to the point of intimidating, the harsh black wood seeming to glisten slightly in the room's soft lighting. There were two seats positioned opposite it, and Blake had no trouble imagining how inferior a guest would feel facing such a masterpiece.

Atop the desk, completely unnecessarily, was a weathered brass nameplate. Blake brushed her fingers over it, cautious as if the name engraved might bite her. She was in the belly of the beast, but until that moment she hadn't been scared. This was _Weiss'_ place, after all, or at least soon would be. Still…

"So this is his desk," mused Yang, somewhat less enthralled.

"Where every important decision for the past two generations was made," Blake confirmed. How many pieces of paper had crossed that desk, how many lives had been built and destroyed from here…

"It's got a lot of history for you, eh?" Yang said, brushing lightly against Blake's hand.

"It's…. just a desk," mumbled Blake, still transfixed. "It doesn't _mean_ anything."

"Right," replied Yang, rolling her eyes. "Unfortunately for you, I remember that famous photo. Schnee 1.0 seated right around…. here," Yang sat in the chair behind the desk, kicking up her feet. Blake was too focused to even notice the upskirt glance it afforded her. "Prime Minister to his left, Minister of Justice on the right. He signs that court document and _boom_ , three-hundred thousand square miles of inhabited land suddenly become the private property of the Schnee Dust Company."

Even now, Blake felt the righteous anger burgeoning inside her. They were old, if familiar wounds, passed down through the generations.

"It's history…" conceded Blake, "….but it's pointless. Never mind. I don't care." The desk might not mean anything, but its presence weighed on her nonetheless. Every textbook of her people's history - at least, the ones that didn't whitewash everything - had a photo or three of that desk, their captions describing some moment where the SDC had blossomed and her people wilted. It was superstitious, idiotic… but she couldn't shake the feeling that this was a _bad_ place.

"I'm afraid," Yang began, her tone earnest enough that Blake momentarily paused. Yang took the opportunity to swing over the desk so her legs were dangling off the edge, catching Blake's hand in her own. "I'm afraid…. there's only one solution."

"Yang, please, I don't want to-"

"- _fuck on his desk._ "

The words seemed to float in the air for several seconds. Yang smiled, predatorily. Blake licked her lips, her stomach tight with nervousness. It was so forbidden, so sacrilegious, such a blasphemy to everything the Schnee line (had) stood for…

"He's-"

"-in the hospital and not leaving it anytime soon, kitty," promised Yang. She wrapped her arms around Blake's upper back and pulled her so they were a breath's width apart. "Weiss is out." With one hand, Yang began working on the buttons of her own blouse. "The room is locked from the inside." A hot pink bra poked out, sending Blake's pulse skyrocketing. "You and I." Her beautiful abdomen, perfection hard-earned through countless hours in the home gym. " _ **Fuck history**_." A double entendre, and a pair of lilac eyes, burning with a fiery love.

Blake was still as a statue for several seconds, the weight of the world crashing down on her brain, before she wordlessly began unbuttoning her suit's jacket. It fell to the floor as Blake moved closer to Yang, still perched on the edge of the desk. One of her stocking-clad legs went on either side of the blonde's hips, their torsos pressed precariously together.

"You're absolutely insane, you know that," murmured Blake, as she pushed and Yang pulled them down to the surface of the desk.

"And yet here you are," teased Yang, _not_ on top for an unusual change. "A rebel about to fuck herself silly on the desk of the enemy."

"There's a lot of symbolism here," murmured Blake, as Yang's fingers began exploring beneath her camisole. "It represents everything about the Schnee dynasty Weiss is working so hard to change. Are you sure we should-"

"Desecrate it in the most enjoyable way known to womankind?" said Yang, one swift tug pulling the undergarment off Blake, lacy black bra cups her reward. "Defile it with passionate love that transcends race itself?"

"Well," mused Blake, groaning slightly as Yang's fingers began playing over her bra, "when you put it that way."

And put it that way Yang did. With the efficiency of a veteran Yang unclipped Blake's bra, casting it aside so it draped over a nearby chair. She kneaded Blake's breasts in her hands, sensuous groans her prize, exciting Blake to the point that the black-haired girl barely noticed being flipped over, Yang spinning them around so the brawler was on top. Yang tossed aside her own shirt and bra without a moment's compunction, before leaning down to press her bare torso against Blake's, the skin-on-skin contact causing their hearts to pound in excited fury.

"Oh, fuck, Yang," groaned Blake, as she heard the zipper on her skirt being slid down, felt the play of fingers across her waist.

"Not yet, kitty," teased Yang, grinning at Blake's automatic scowl. She planted a series of kisses in short succession from Blake's sternum to her ear, the cheap lipstick leaving a satisfying trail of imprints along the way. Blake began arching her back as Yang's hand drifted laterally to the front of her skirt, softly rubbing her mons pubis. Blake let out an almost pitying whimper, whatever fear the room instilled in her long since consumed by the fires of passion.

Yang pulled herself off her girlfriend long enough to yank their skirts to the floor, though not quickly enough to avoid the barrage of pleas and threats that accompanied the loss of tactile contact. Yang was never really the pantyhose-wearing type, but she had to admit they felt positively intoxicating when wrapped round Blake's legs. Sliding up beside Blake on the desk once more, her fingers slipped beneath the top and quickly found Blake's folds, already wet and parting in excitement.

Blake had worked herself up into a sweat in no time at all, her hands pressing firmly against Yang's back as the blonde's fingers tugged and stroked with a maddening lack of urgency. Yang pressed her lips against Blake's, pleasantly surprised at their passionate reception. Blake was normally so much…. _colder_ wasn't quite the right word, but more restrained in the bedroom. She _thought_ too much, Yang (and even Weiss) would complain, sensory stimuli still playing second fiddle to whatever was going on inside that beautiful head. Blake approached sex like a technician, her mind always thinking about the mechanics of strokes and licks. Even Weiss, for all her uptightness, was less composed in the bedroom.

Which was why it was all the more satisfying to see Blake surrender to the throngs of passion. Yang slide a finger around either side of Blake's folds, rubbing her clitoris sporadically, the irregular touches sending Blake into a near-frenzy. Seeing their stoic lose control sent a thrill through Yang's body. Blake's own hands began fumbling for the blonde's pussy, though the awkward angle of their position and Blake's own hormone-induced cognitive impairment left her lacking her usual deft touch. Blake managed to kick off her heels, the shoes arcing through the air before clattering on carpeted floor.

One strong arm slid beneath Blake's back, cradling her against Yang, while the other hand began pushing in, a strong hand circularly rubbing her clit. The position was awkward, and a little uncomfortable for Yang, but had the advantage of keeping Blake close to her breasts while Yang slipped a second finger between her folds. The room was too small to have a proper echo, but the sounds of Blake's moans reverberated in Yang's ears all the same.

Blake's teeth bit into Yang's collarbone, something the blonde could remember happening less than a half-dozen times, the sting trivial compared to Blake's excitement. Yang's pace accelerated, and she felt Blake's nails dig into her skin, the pain indistinguishable from pleasure as their sweaty bodies pressed together.

When the orgasm finally arrived it was loud, powerful, and (to Yang's devilish pleasure) messy. The crotch of Blake's pantyhose, never discarded in their zest to get straight to the fucking, was soaked through, and not just by the sweat that coated Blake's body like a fine sheen.

"Fuck, Yang," breathed Blake, once more advanced brain functions were restored. Their bodies separated loudly, sweat and passion having sealed them together, each breath still deep and labored. "That was…. that was something else."

"Think you've got enough heat in you to send it back my way?" asked Yang with a mischievous grin, lying back on her elbows and spreading her knees.

Blake practically tore off Yang's panties with haste born of want, bright red undergarments coming to a rest atop one of Blake's stilettos. Yang fell on her back as Blake wasted no time with warm-up, tongue lapping and nose rubbing, buried between Yang's legs. Blake's strokes lacked their usual artistry, the way she slowly traced and outlined every fold, but Yang didn't mind that grace had been substituted by passion. ' _In fact, I could almost get used to this_ ,' mused Yang, before Blake reached up to knead a breast with her free hand and conscious thought was exiled.

A tongue pushed deep between Yang's folds, Blake practically grinding herself against her girlfriend's crotch in her desire to get closer. Blake's whole body felt alive, _afire_ , and she wanted nothing more than to ride this wave of passion. Yang's scent, aromatic even at its most subdued, was now intoxicating, and Blake breathed and licked it in like it was giving her a high. Both hands returned to Yang's folds, pushing and pulling with none of Blake's typical subtlety, the force of her strokes skirting against the edge of pain but all the more pleasurable for it.

Yang groped blindly about for Blake's hair, found dark strands long since freed from their conservative styling. Hair flowed through her fingers until she reached Blake's head, which bobbed softly about as Blake's tongue struggled valiantly to find every corner and crevice. Yang gyrated her hips slightly, only adding to the pressure between her legs.

Two fingers slipped into Yang, the pleasurable shock loosing a husky moan. There was little elegance in Blake's motions, but she knew where to push, and that counted for a lot. Blake focused her tongue's energy on Yang's clit, the pressure bringing Yang closer and closer to the edge as she slipped in a third finger. The digits strummed within her, causing Yang to squeeze her legs around Blake, her hands grabbing fistfuls of hair as she let out a tortured breath.

It was a crash, waves of heat breaking against the force of Blake pressed against her. She moaned and pulled Blake's head closer to her, one foot pounding the desk as her hips lifted a foot off of it. She came down with a loud _thud_ , her skin awash in sweat and saliva, her muscles limp as if tranquilized. She tried to say something, _anything_ , but the words caught in her throat and she ended up just coughing.

Her girlfriend crawled over her like she was some mountaineering challenge, resting atop Yang's heaving chest as arms and legs entangled. The surface of the desk beneath them was coated in the runoff of their lovemaking, soaked into the wood itself, their passion having etched new notches into place. Yang knew that Blake would never be intimidated by a big man behind a desk again.

"I must confess," said Blake, a finger absent-mindedly running up and down Yang's sternum, "that desecration can be a powerful aphrodisiac."

"That's just a fancy way," said Yang, her voice just a little hoarse, "of saying you like getting dirty with bad girls." That impish grin returned, Yang managing to sit upright despite Blake pressed atop her. "I guess you're in that naturally rebellious phase," she teased, planting a kiss atop Blake's nose. Blake frowned, and pawed at the kissed spot in the cutest way possible. "Happens to most of us as teens, but I reckon you're a late bloomer."

"Well then, I'm looking forward to growing out of it," replied Blake dryly, wiping a strand of hair that sweat had glued to her forehead. "Now where did my panties end up?"

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weiss let out a world-weary sigh belonging to a soul much older than hers as she finally ended the call, her mind numbed by what could only be described as a short jaunt to her own personal hell. Incompetent bureaucrats. Lazy underlings. Opportunistic rivals. Veiled insults, threats, and sexual proposals. It was a small blessing that the windows of the conference room were impact resistant, because otherwise her phone was going out the window or she was.

She collected her papers, sorting them into the appropriately-labeled folders and sub-folders. It was a calming exercise, like a bonsai tree for the hyper-organized, and within a minute her stress was back to manageable levels, and she could think of things other than schemes of bloody revenge.

Like her two girlfriends. Who, she wagered, were getting rather bored by this point. Anything actually important was in a locked cabinet, so conceivably Yang couldn't do too much damage, certainly not with Blake looking over her. Good head on her shoulders, that Blake Belladonna. Apart from the whole terrorism phase. But adolescence is hard for everyone.

The first thing she saw upon unlocking her office was that _they were not there_. Weiss panicked and calmed herself in the span of about three seconds, trying to think of where else they could be. She hadn't passed either Blake or Yang on the way back from the conference room, so unless they'd both ducked into a bathroom somewhere…

Then she saw it. A single, stiletto-heeled shoe, glistening in the setting sun whose rays poured through her window. ' _Did Blake change into flats or_ …' Then Weiss realized that the stripe of red she'd been seeing was not the bottom of Blake's shoe but in fact a pair of panties. And they were, Weiss regretfully realized, not _Blake's_ panties.

' _But where did_ …' her ice-blue eyes locked onto the small door that connected to her father's office. If doors were capable of shrinking in on themselves, that one would have. The door had used to connect her father's office to that of a small pool of secretaries which handled the bulk of his day-to-day activities. An office Weiss had claimed for herself upon arrival, earning her the resentment of the secretarial pool in the process. She had passed on other offices that were far more spacious than her own, because she wanted it known that she was little more than a step away from the SDC throne room.

The door swung open.

For the second time that day Yang found herself staring sheepishly into Weiss' eyes. Only this time she didn't have a cellphone. Or any clothes. Just long strands of golden blonde hair, flowing down her back like a mane. Blake was about a foot behind her, bare cheeks still seated on the edge of a desk that cost more than she was liable to make in a lifetime. Time stopped.

Then Weiss inhaled ever-so-softly through her nose, and the smell of sex and sweat filled her nostrils.

"You… you… you _didn't_ ," breathed Weiss, the impropriety of it all threatening to send her into anaphylactic shock.

"Kinda….yeah," mumbled Yang, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Twice," Blake supplemented, unhelpfully.

"This whole place _reeks_ of sex," Weiss half-yelled, half-whined. "You _fucked_ in what is going to be my office!"

"Um… you were going to redecorate it anyways, right?" said Yang, graspingly. Weiss let out a distressed, high-pitched noise that was either a whine or a stifled scream.

"Let's not think about that," interjected Blake, closing the distance between her and Weiss. The heiress suddenly realized she was striking distance from two incredibly beautiful women, each completely nude, veiled only by cascading black and blonde hair. Blake planted a hand on Weiss' chest, gently but firmly, and began pushing her backwards, into her own office. "Let's focus on what we can do with the office you _currently_ have."

The jaws of Weiss and Yang dropped in unison, as the heiress stumbled back into her own desk, hands bracing against its lip. Blake was riding high off her triumph, her mind and body primed for another round. Yang followed behind the black-haired predator, shutting the door behind her.

By the time the sun rose the next morning, rays peaking through the window unto their sex-exhausted slumbering forms, Weiss would have a _markedly_ more liberal interpretation of appropriate stress-relief activities.

With some minor deviances, Operation COO had been a success after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to anyone who has ever left a comment on anything I ever wrote. Seriously, you are my only inspiration. Feedback of any kind is always welcome. Trying to break my streak of writing mildly-depressing stories with some old-fashioned, uncomplicated smut. Still managed to write about 4,000 words of back story before getting anywhere remotely sexy. Sigh. If you dis/like the character dynamics displayed above, please let me know. Might try something longer in a bit.
> 
> Whedonites may catch the shout-out to Serenity buried in Weiss' dialogue. Also crowbarred in is my favorite Halo chapter title ever, of all time. Yes, I realize it's really fucking obscure.


End file.
